


Mausoleum

by MinaB



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Banter, F/M, Future Fic, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 03:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20790071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinaB/pseuds/MinaB
Summary: Years in the future, Damon still thinks of his family. And Bonnie Bennett.[Happy ending, promise!]





	Mausoleum

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy, I know it's been a while.

Industrial sounds of a too technological city, whirring and shuffling and the occasinal bops and grinds of metal hitting metal, scraping and echoing like a bang in a too big room. It was dark too, shades of white and grey matter barely glimpsed through the black scenary, lights only on the top most level, splattered in like an aftertought, like paint hitting a canvas, like blood from a bullet wound. One there, and one here and one further back, but not for 3 more flats, or one level below. And the lights were too difuse, too soft to pierce more than maybe a few inches around them. Still, he didn't mind. The dark was like molases, true enough, but he could deal with that, he got used to it.

He was walking below today, on the lowest part of the sidewalks, looking up at the level he usually stalked through. The Below was made up of far narrower corridors, with a much bigger car lane, not that many even used that anymore. But it was still asphalt and concrete and yellow traffic lines drawn in paint. Irregular, crooked. He could see where they drew the first line then began the next as there was a breakage, shifted slightly to the right, intertwined wrong. He didn't mind this either.

He walked a lot nowadays, his car long ago a wreak he still held onto like it was his arm, the only keepsake he had left of his only family. So he walked now, the long maze of corridors that used to be pavewalks, down to the corner, down further to the intersection and onwards out to the edge of the city.

The cemetary greeted him slowly, the upturned earth of an abandoned grave, until the groundskeep returned, the slow peppering of headstones and the occasional cross here and there, so much fewer nowadays. All graves were fewer nowadays. There was no need for them, there were other ways to bury someone, that is if they died at all. Midday now, the dark held on though, it held on forever these days. He didn't mind that too.

He paused. It was just up ahead, where her gravestone stood. He'd wanted a masoleum, she'd deserved something big, something to take up space, because she should take up space after all she'd done for this too dark, too winding world. She'd kept it spinning, kept it going for so long. But she'd fought back with all her might, and so did her children, later, when coffins were being chosen and gravestones and mausoleums were being picked. He knelt, head high, eyes skyward, a deep breath in before he looked at the etching. It was a date, so very many years ago, her birth, her end. It read friend and mother and saviour and the best of this whole wide universe. He lowered his head, eyes darted to the damp ground, to the flowers in his hand, her favourite this time. He'd finally gotten it right. His mind shifted, suddenly aware that his brother was burried mere feet away as well. His heart still ached for him, but he'd lived a long and happy life. His brother hadn't minded death, not like he did.

"Still as melodramatic as always, Damon?" Her voice rang through the silence of his part of the city, too far away for the noise to pierce through. His eyes remained fixed on the gravestone, the name smiling up to him. He smiled back. Bonnie Bennett.

* * *

"Well, don't you look wood witch chic, Bon Bon?" Bonnie smiled. "I still think a mausoleum would've been better, you'd at least have a bed, no one would be the wiser." He argued, standing up, flower still in hand. He gave them to her and she smiled softly.

"Finally remembered my favourite did you? And no, people were already shapening their pitchforks, a grave was better."

"Alright, but I still don't get why you won't join me in the city. No one even remembers who you were anymore, it's been a century. Why the woods?" He argued back, smile turning into grin. He'd missed her, her voice, her eyes, her face. She'd been away for too long this time, a month had been torture.

"Having second thoughts?" Her answering grin was wild like the woods woods she'd chosen as home, her tone as snarky as it has always been. He shook his head, "never", and took her hand. They dissappeard into the trees, hand in hand, a trail of footprints in the damp ground that vanished with a flourish of her hand, leaving behind the city, and the grave, and the remanants of the past they'd shared for so long, stepping into the future. He'd just turned 300 years old, she'd just stepped into her second century. Their lives finally entwined deep in the woods that'd kept her alive with it's magic for so long, and would do so for far longer still, together.


End file.
